Flight of an Angel
by dioxazinepurple
Summary: Ms. Parker, Broots, and Sydney are being framed. By who? Why? Will Mr. Parker believe their story? Will Jarod be able to help? Will Ms. Parker finally be able to escape the Centre? Read to find out. ::Complete::
1. Jarod's Angels

**Disclaimer:** The characters are NOT mine, I'm just borrowing them for a little while. Sorry to disappoint you. Please don't sue me! I'm broke, and my fanfiction is mostly harmless. I swear.

**Summary:** Something fishy is going down at the Centre, implicating Ms. Parker, Sydney, and Broots, and (quite possibly) putting their termination orders on Mr. Parker's desk. Who's framing them? Can Jarod finally use his gifts to save those closest to him? Will Ms. Parker _finally_ melt and let Jarod help her out of the Centre? Only time, and my fanfiction, will tell. Takes place post-IOTH, but if you haven't seen the movie, don't fret -- there aren't any IOTH references included in this fic.

Anyhow, enjoy.

* * *

She hated Jarod's old lairs. Most of the time she wouldn't find squat. She'd run halfway across the country with Broots, Sydney, and sometimes (God forbid) Lyle, just to find more mysteries awaiting her. And, as a rule, she never found the answers. At the most, and when Jarod was feeling especially smug, a few cryptic clues would allow her to decipher the truth of where he had been. But he never said where he was going.

This time, this week, she wasn't ready for his games, or his antics. She was as stressed as she had ever been, thanks to the Centre and the increasing pressure her father was putting on her for Jarod's capture. Over the past months, when Jarod had decided to allow her to sleep (and consequently, to find other means of entertainment), she had began sneaking around the Centre to research a completely new topic: her father. Jarod's words of wisdom had finally caught up with her, or so it seemed. Everything her father had done seemed like a scheme for power, either to boost his own or take it away from someone else. The truth about her father was a truth that she could have lived without. Of course, Lyle had his suspicions, and she was afraid that he might have an idea of what she had been doing. Based on her new discoveries about her father, she had no doubt of the termination orders that would result from Lyle being in the know. Thankfully though, he was still back at the Centre, working on some top secret something or other.

Miss Parker glanced at her watch, and reached into her purse for a package of cigarettes. She tore the top open, fishing out the last one left. She fumbled with the lighter as she ground the packaging material under her heel. After successfully lighting the cigarette, she tossed the lighter back into her purse, and took a drag. She had promised to stop a while ago, she didn't quite remember how long, but in light of the happenings in the Centre of late, she didn't give a damn. Let her die of lung cancer. She'd probably be shot first, anyway. More than anything, she just wanted someone who could listen to this all, and tell her that everything was going to be okay. That she could work through this, that her termination orders wouldn't be sitting on Lyle's desk within the week. Of course, the only person who could speak those words (and actually comfort her, when Broots said such things it just put her in a fouler mood) hadn't called in weeks, so long she had lost count. For the first time in the years she had spent chasing him, she actually wanted him to send one of his irritating packages, or make one of his late night wake-up calls. The knowledge that she missed him, his little jokes, the banter exchanged between them; this knowledge tore her into two conflicting sides. Sympathizing with the enemy? She was a goner for sure. And yet, her other half wanted nothing more than to have with Jarod the same friendship they had as children. A wish that came from deep within her heart, a wish that could very well be the cause of her death. Tearing her thoughts away from the grim possibilities of her demise, she opted instead to turn over Jarod's latest pretend in her mind.

For the past few weeks, or so it seemed, Jarod had taught art at a nearby high school. She found the newspaper clippings on his night stand about a teacher who was a suspected child molester. There was no evidence against him, he was just a suspect, and as long as the child whom had been beaten and raped was in a coma, no one would know the truth. Of course, Jarod had rode in on his big white horse and saved the day, leaving a whole town 'in his debt', and half a school of girls swooning at his very memory. Parker sighed. Good old Jarod, hero of the day. Well she was growing quite irritated with this white knight. She was going to get to the bottom of this one, the very bottom, and God as her witness she would not leave a stone unturned in his classroom, even if it meant getting Broots to fake a search warrant. Which was why she was there, standing across the street from the school, smoking one last cigarette before she made her entrance.

Surprisingly, the principal had agreed quite easily to allow her just to waltz right in and take a look around "Mr. Cunningham"'s classroom. The whole matter had been settled easily a few minutes before over the phone. Miss Parker had left Sydney and Broots to search in vain for any clues in Jarod's apartment, for anything that he hadn't meant to leave in the cramped quarters he had called home for a week and a half. But Parker, not to mention the other two on her team, had known full well that they would never find a mistake in his plans. Jarod was perfection. They would just have to learn to deal. His biggest mistake this time was forgetting to clean out his fridge before he left. The apartment smelled like week old pizza.

Miss Parker dropped the cigarette on the pavement, and put it out with the toe of her shoe. She quickly crossed the street and walked through the front parking lot with the practiced grace of one whose job was to intimidate others. As soon as she set foot in the lobby, she found a short, plump woman in a floral print dress waiting for her arrival. Miss Parker snatched a visitor's badge out of the woman's outstretched hand, peeling the back off of it and sticking it on her jacket pocket. The secretary glanced at her quickly, but preferred a view of her cluttered desk after she briefly met Miss Parker's icy blue gaze.

"Miss Parker? I'm Dorris Daily," said the short woman with a bubbly smile.

"Charmed. Do you know Jarod Cunningham?" asked Miss Parker, getting straight to the point.

"Who here at Harborfields High School doesn't?" she asked with a nervous laugh, gaining only a glare from Miss Parker, as opposed to a sympathetic smile.

"Did you work closely with him?" tried Miss Parker, her patience wearing thin.

"Oh yes, quite. You see, I'm the other art teacher in the building, Jarod and I ate lunch together occasionally. Of course, I never suspected that his motivation behind teaching was to catch a child molester, he was so good with children . . . made them laugh, he did. I've talked to many of his students, they all felt special in his class. He was such a good man, generous and kind, totally devoted to his job. Not for a moment did I think that . . ."

"I see," cut in Miss Parker, putting an end to Mrs. Daily's speech. "How about you show me his classroom?"

"Oh, of course, follow me," stuttered Mrs. Daily, looking slightly unnerved.

"Do you know where Jarod is now? Did he say anything about where he would be going after his time here was through, leave any cryptic messages?" asked Miss Parker, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

"No, no I don't think so at least. Not to me. Look, Miss Parker, is Jarod in trouble with the law or something? Is that why you're looking for him?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," said Miss Parker dryly, following Mrs. Daily into a well lit classroom.

"Well, this is it. He sure didn't leave much behind. The only place I'd imagine anything of interest could be found would be his desk," said Mrs. Daily, but put a handle on her chatter as she saw that Miss Parker was already tearing through the drawers. That, was a woman on a mission, Mrs. Daily knew.

"Damn you Jarod," hissed Miss Parker as she fumbled for the first drawer on the other side.

"I really hope he's not in any sort of trouble, he was such a good man . . ." began Mrs. Daily again.

Miss Parker half listened to the usual drivel about Jarod's wonderful character, all while keeping a running commentary on what she'd like to do with the lab rat once she found him. He was definitely not good for her ulcer. Her life had been particularly stressful as of late, and she never would have guessed that Jarod's silence would only make it worse. For the first time in her life, she understood Jarod, and why he insisted on hanging around in the open. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't because he liked pissing people off, or for that matter driving her insane. It was because he knew that she needed him. He was the only person she could really trust; he was the only one who could look at her life at the Centre from a relatively objective point of view. All he ever wanted to do was help her, anyway. This reality hit her like a ton of bricks, and she didn't like it one bit. She needed him. He could just as well find out about his family without her, could save hundreds of innocent victims without her hot on his trail, but she couldn't keep going without him. This caused her to rip the last drawer in his desk open with all of her might. It popped out of the desk, and Miss Parker stared at her hands when she realized what she had just done. Not like she cared, the desk was a piece of crap anyway.

But then her eyes widened when she realized that the drawer wasn't empty. She stood up and dropped the drawer on the desk, removing the manilla folder carefully with trembling hands. A mistake? She knew it not to be. Jarod would never make such a well placed mistake. Then what? Her eyes quickly scanned the word neatly penned on the front of the folder in Jarod's handwriting. Of their own volition, her hands dropped the folder on his desk. Mrs. Daily wondered at that, Miss Parker was visibly shaken, but why? Mrs. Daily crossed the room to take a look at Miss Parker's discovery.

"Ah yes, those are Jarod's angels," said Mrs. Daily with a laugh. She saw Miss Parker mouthing the word written on the front of the folder. "Angel. Labeled it before he left, I suppose."

"Jarod's angels?" asked Miss Parker, opening the folder.

"Of course. Those were his sketches. I never saw him without his sketch pad and a pen. It was his one peculiarity, besides all the sugar he consumed on a day to day basis. He used to draw angel after angel, some like the kind that you put on top of a Christmas tree, some were beautiful and yet terrible, some were serene and peaceful. But they were all drawn the same; they were sketched with a black fountain pen. And they all had the same face. He often told me that he was always trying to draw something else, but that was all that came out," replied the older woman.

Both women gasped when they saw the first picture in the folder. First off, he had differed slightly with the medium - in addition to the telltale marks of a black fountain pen, colored pencil had been used to breathe some life into the angel. It was a full eight by eleven inches, almost like a portrait. Just head, shoulders, and . . . halo. But the greatest shock came to Miss Parker. It was just like looking in a mirror. It was a picture of her. Jarod had drawn her. Angel. One scribbled initial was in the bottom right hand corner of the page.

"Only a J," whispered Miss Parker, knowing full well that any other artist would have two initials. But not Jarod. She felt a stab of guilt in her heart. The least she could have done for him would have been to give him a name. Just a name.

"I always wondered . . ." began Mrs. Daily, but she stopped abruptly when she saw the flash of pain in the younger woman's eyes.

"You and your genius mind, with your stupid double meanings," she hissed at the drawing, but couldn't tear her eyes away from the ones Jarod had drawn, how those in the sketch were the very same shade of blue.

"You are the angel, you're Jarod's angel," said the older woman, looking at the drawing, and back at Miss Parker. "But if you're a friend of Jarod's, why don't you know where he is?"

Miss Parker didn't respond. She tore her eyes away from the first drawing, carefully shuffling through them, studying each one in turn. How many were there? More drawings of angels than she'd ever seen in her life. But why would Jarod have wanted her to see this? What message was in these sketches that she missed? Mrs. Daily had said that he always tried to draw something else, but winded up drawing heavenly creatures with the face of . . . well . . . a devil. A captor. That was what she was to him, wasn't it? He knew her, knew her emotions, knew what was behind her Ice Queen exterior. But she didn't know half as much about him. Was he trying to tell her something about himself? Who he was? What he thought about? Who he thought about? That he . . .

A small slip of paper fell out from between two drawings, and floated to the floor. Mrs. Daily stooped to pick it up, and handed it to Miss Parker. She tried to read it, but realized that her vision was so blurred with tears that it would be useless. She blinked them back as best she could, and read the words scrawled on notebook paper. He had known that she would come here, he had known that she would find the folder. He had known that she wouldn't be able to resist looking through it. He had known her thoughts, her feelings, and in this supreme knowledge that only he possessed (the lucky son of a bitch, she wasn't sure of half those things herself), he had decided to share the favor. 'Well thanks Jarod, spell it out so even I can understand it. I never would have guessed any other way'. _"It isn't a sin to care, Miss Parker."_

"Miss Parker?" Mrs. Daily questioned as Miss Parker began stuffing all of Jarod's drawings back into the folder. She forced it and all of its contents into her purse, and quickly checked her jacket to make sure her shoulder holster was concealed. Bringing guns on school grounds was a definite no-no.

"I'll be taking these," Miss Parker said on her way out the door. "And I can show myself out," she added, her tears drying and her hardened Ice Queen exterior showing itself yet again.

Her trip across the parking lot was brief, she could barely keep herself from breaking into a sprint across the lot. She didn't bother to look both ways crossing the street, such was her rush. Miss Parker swung into the driver's seat of her car once she had reached the other side. She dropped her purse in the passenger's seat, turned the key in the ignition, and took off down the road. She needed a cigarette.

Within a matter of minutes, Miss Parker pulled up outside Jarod's last dwelling, noticing that Sydney and Broots were still in the apartment, as their car was not occupied as of yet. Miss Parker opted for the stairs when she saw that the elevator was in use, and sprinted up three flights of stairs with practiced ease. Miss Parker walked down the hallway and knocked on the door of Jarod's apartment, waiting for either Broots or Sydney to open the door. As is turned out, Broots was the one closest at the time.

"Hi Miss Parker, did you find anything?" he asked hopefully.

"Nothing important," she growled, still angry that Jarod could play with her emotions like that. Only Jarod.

"Nothing about his whereabouts can be found here either, I suggest that we return to the Centre," said Sydney with a sigh, taking one last look around the apartment.

"Sydney, I need to talk to you," said Miss Parker, her sharp tone of voice barely able to conceal the fact that the matter at hand was one with strong emotional ties to herself.

"Alright, we can arrange something, perhaps dinner after we . . ."

"No Syd, I need to talk to you _now_," she snapped, turning her glare back to Broots. "Start the car," she ordered, and the technician scampered out of the apartment.

"What is so pressing, Miss Parker?" asked Sydney, sitting down on the couch he had been standing next to. "Does it have anything to do with Jarod?"

"What are you, a mind reader?" asked Miss Parker, somewhat irritated that he always seemed to know what was bothering her. She pulled the folder out of her purse, and tossed it onto the couch next to Sydney. Miss Parker contented herself with looking for another pack of cigarettes as Sydney flipped through the various drawings.

"Well, he's a very good drawer," began Sydney, and Miss Parker banged her hand on the counter in frustration.

"He's a very good drawer," she mimicked. "Are you sure Jarod's the genius? You look like you could give him a run for his money."

"Forgive me Miss Parker, I'm just as surprised as you are. I suppose he left a note with this," he said, looking up from one of the drawings to see her staring at the folder in his lap.

"He did," said Miss Parker, pulling the note out of her pocket. She crossed the room and handed it to the psychiatrist. "But why, Sydney? And how? How do those drawings fit with what he said? It just doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he thinks that it was something you needed to hear," he replied.

"Why would I need to hear something like that? He seems to take joy in telling me what's wrong with me, what's wrong with my life. I swear, every time he plays these stupid little games it makes it easier for me to want to shoot him," Miss Parker began threateningly before collapsing in an armchair next to Sydney. In all truth, the little games he played only made her hate the thought of taking him back to the Centre even more.

"I don't think that this is one of his little games, Miss Parker," said Sydney softly. "I think that he sees something in you that no one else can. He is just trying to help you, and letting you know that you have the power to help him in return, even if you would have a hard time admitting that you care enough to do so."

"I still don't know why he wastes his time . . ." began Miss Parker, but stopped abruptly as her mind came up with a list of possible reasons.

"Come now Miss Parker, Broots is waiting," said Sydney, standing up and crossing the room, looking back for a second before walking out the door. Miss Parker carefully placed the drawings back into the folder, and slid it back into her purse. She picked up the note with a trembling hand, and read the words he had neatly penned on it again. The Ice Queen facade was getting harder and harder to uphold these past weeks. Jarod would be proud of his handiwork. Miss Parker had been taught that caring got you killed. But it seemed that she couldn't turn around today without being reminded that she cared more than she'd ever known.

Miss Parker stood up, and took one last look around the apartment. With a sigh, she shut the door behind her. At this rate, she would be long gone before they even got a substantial lead on Jarod, forget actually catching him and making his stay at the Centre a permanent one. True, things were definitely not looking good, for her especially. She was caught between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. She knew that if she brought Jarod back to the Centre, she'd lose him forever to the cruel devices of her father, but if she didn't . . . she might not have many more days to spend in pursuit of the famed pretender. Her father was growing impatient with her and her failure with Jarod so far. Little did he know why his little Angel was having so much trouble doing her job.

"Let's go," said Miss Parker, swinging into the passenger's seat of the black Centre issued vehicle, slamming the door shut after she pulled her leg in.


	2. Hideaway

**Disclaimer:** They're STILL not mine, and I promise to return them relatively unharmed.

Forgive me for the length of this chapter, but it had to be done.

* * *

Jarod sat on the edge of his bed in yet another seedy motel room, snacking on a bag of potato chips and some onion dip. He smiled when the commercial ended and the news came back on, briefly recapping the story of his latest pretend, complete with interviews and all. He was glad that he could make a difference in someone's life. No matter how many times he did it, no matter how many stereotypical bad guys he encountered, no matter how many identical situations he found himself in, he never grew bored. Just the look on someone's face when they thanked him was enough payment for his deeds. He didn't have such a bad life after all.

For an instant, Jarod wondered if Miss Parker had found his drawings, but those worries were quickly put to rest when he realized that it was Miss Parker he was thinking about, the one and only Miss Parker. There wasn't a way in the world she had missed them, sitting in plain view in the bottom of a drawer in his classroom. After all, he had seen her enter the building as he sat in a tree above her car, he knew that she could take it herself from there. It had been dangerous to stick around with the 'three musketeers' in town, but at least Lyle was absent, and no sweeper teams were accompanying them. Her finding those drawings was up there on his agenda along with saving the world and finding his family. It was just one more step on the road he was taking to get her to open up to him. She had when they were children, she could do it again. The Parker that he once knew was just under that icy exterior, one which he knew he could penetrate.

Jarod frowned when he realized he had reached the bottom of his bag of chips. He stood up and crossed the room, disposing of the empty bag in the trash can as he glanced out the window. It was almost dark out. He decided that with a little luck, he'd make it back to Blue Cove in a few days. It was an enormous risk he was taking, but was certainly worth it. He just hoped that Miss Parker wouldn't mind sleeping though the next few nights. He couldn't risk her being able to trace his calls. Jarod knew that Miss Parker was slightly irritated at the silent treatment he had given her for the past few weeks, but he would explain his motives to her when he saw her next.

Subconsciously, he found himself reaching for the phone. He sighed when he realized that he had missed the sound of her voice, even though that voice was usually spitting out death threats at him when he did call. Jarod decided to call Sydney, just to make sure that Miss Parker had found the drawings. He knew that Sydney, even though he was working on the recapture of his favorite pretender, would never take the initiative and actually ask Broots to trace the call. And Jarod would be off the line by the time Parker realized who her favorite psychologist was talking to. Quick as a flash, Jarod had dialed Sydney's cell phone number, and it rang only once before a familiar voice on the other line said,

"This is Sydney."

"Hello, Sydney. Don't tell Miss Parker it's me," said Jarod quickly.

"Alright, but why?" asked Sydney, restraining a desire to say the name of the pretender out loud, though he knew what kind of consequences there would be if he did.

"Because I'm just calling to ask one simple question: did Miss Parker get the folder?"

"The drawings?" asked Sydney, realizing that he shouldn't have said it out loud, as Miss Parker whirled around in her seat and looked at him.

"Did she?"

"Yes, she got them," said Sydney, defeated, as Miss Parker snapped,

"Give me the phone, Sydney!"

"I . . ."

"You what? Give me the damn phone!" she cried, reaching for it.

"The divine has been alerted of the phone call, huh?" laughed Jarod at Miss Parker's tone. She would just have to wait. "Nice talking to you, Syd. Good to hear your voice again."

With that, he hung up, leaving Sydney quite puzzled at Jarod's inquiry, and Miss Parker quite annoyed at him for not alerting her of Jarod's call sooner. Not to mention the fact that she was almost obviously jealous that it had been Sydney Jarod had called instead of her. And she was quite upset with herself for feeling that way . . . so who better to take her anger out on than her two team members?

Jarod smiled to himself as he opened another bag of potato chips. He had devoted all of his free life to making a difference, and hoped now that he could help the people who mattered the most to him. It was unlikely at best; he would need their cooperation, too. And he knew that people like Miss Parker could be more stubborn than was good for them. But he was Jarod, wasn't he? He'd try anyway. If he learned only one thing in the past few years, it was that. Never stop trying. By now, the Centre should have at least figured out the consequences of his unfailingly upbeat attitude. Doubtless, they were paying for it. And, by neatly breaking into the Centre mainframe and intercepting a few messages, his knew that this trip to Blue Cove was most certainly mandatory. They would be in for a surprise, one they would receive when he was long gone. That was the worst part about his life, Jarod decided. He never got to see the look on their faces.


	3. Framed

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them, never did, never will.

* * *

Miss Parker unlocked her front door with a sigh. Her first day back in the Center since the whole Angel episode in Jarod's old classroom had been pure hell. Her father had been quite upset that Jarod had escaped, since Wonderboy was so stingy with clues as of late. In addition, one of the techies that worked in Broots' department had somehow formed a suspicion that Miss Parker had ordered someone to hack into the Centre's mainframe. Parker was pissed. She hadn't ordered Broots to go on a treasure hunt in at least six months. And little Brootsie always cleaned up after himself. All the information she had found about her father had been found in those horrid eight by eight cells in the Centre's sublevels, all handwritten or printed documents. She had spent days scrounging around on her knees and peering through file cabinets. She was no technology wizard, if she used a computer she would have been caught within minutes; she had decided long ago that she had no talent where a keyboard and mouse were concerned. Parker hadn't wanted to involve Broots in such a dangerous undertaking; if any traces were left behind, it was basically committing suicide. Miss Parker realized the irony of her thoughts as she reached her kitchen. Yes, it would be committing suicide -- at least, that's what would go on the official report.

But it hadn't been her. She wasn't the mysterious hacker, and no matter what she said, her father didn't seem too keen on believing her side of the story. This had irritated her more than anything any lab rat ever could do. The only way that Daddy could be turned against his little Angel without some incredible evidence proving her guilt would be if Lyle gave the report. That would mean that Lyle's techie had uncovered the evidence of a hacker. Which would make them the best team to be involved in the hunt for Jarod. Miss Parker knew all about Lyle's selfish motives; if he caught Jarod, then the Centre would be his after Mr. Parker grew too old to worry about making innocent victims of his cruelty miserable for all their days. But Lyle couldn't catch Jarod with his sister in the way, not with the team she had, of course not. Broots and Debbie both had their lives saved by Jarod; the techie had great respect for the fugitive pretender. Sydney was in no way capable of catching the lab rat, he felt like a father to Jarod, and there wasn't a way in hell he could be responsible for his recapture. And then what about her? Little Miss Parker? She could never hurt Jarod, and she was beginning to think that Lyle had discovered that. How long he had known about her weakness where the pretender was concerned? She was not sure. But it was too long. It was already taking effect against her. And everyone knew that when Lyle and Miss Parker butted heads, Lyle always seemed to have Daddy's support. His little Angel was just a pawn in a greater game, and Mr. Parker was just now learning how to play her. She could kill him. If he didn't kill her first.

He certainly had acquired quite a long list over the years. God knows who was his first, she highly doubted that it had all started with her mother. He had destroyed the lives of so many children, Jarod was not the first, nor the last of them. Her father was the Centre, the reason why the Centre had come upon evil days. Her mother had tried to stop him, and had almost succeeded. But almost isn't good enough when you're dealing with the Centre. Almost gets you killed. Or makes you commit suicide. A more likely cover story, for those who work in the God-forsaken place. But Miss Parker's suspicions had started with just that - Catherine Parker's suicide. Her mother wouldn't have left her so willingly. And that was where Daddy had made his fatal error; he had betrayed his daughter too soon, before he had total control over her heart and her mind. Because there was still a little part that belonged to the little girl that she once was, and it was that part that listened to and remembered the 'nonsense' Jarod spoke whenever he called. Because it wasn't nonsense at all. Unfortunately, she had learned that far too late to save her mother, or anyone else close to her for that matter. But hopefully not too late to save herself.

Miss Parker opened her refrigerator and peered inside. She knew that there wasn't a thing in there that could solve all her problems, but just this once she decided to give that theory a run for its money. Chocolate could temporary wash away all the world's problems, couldn't it? True, alcohol was probably better for such a fix, but she didn't own anything strong enough to battle with her emotions as of the moment. Besides, that would require moving, and she really wasn't in the mood to go scampering back across her house just to get drunk. And her feet were killing her. Damn those Armani heels, she knew they were getting tight. And Miss Parker would be the first to admit that you simply cannot wear four inch heels when they don't fit you right. That is how people break ankles. Women, at least.

Miss Parker kicked off her heels, relishing in the loud thud each made when they hit the wall next to the table. She reached into her refrigerator, brushing past fruit cups and salads, power bars and energy drinks until she finally game in contact with a long rectangular box. She pulled it out of the fridge and examined the unnecessary amount of decorations on the box. The bow was fine, but was the Christmas-y garland really vital to the flavor of the chocolate inside? She shrugged. Not like she gave it more than a moment's thought anyway. She was getting to be too much like Jarod, wasting time thinking about the stupid why's of life. The box looked nice, anyway. Godiva. Well, if you're going to splurge, you might as well eat the best. Without another thought as to how much she would regret this box of chocolates in an hour, she tore off the stupid fake leaves and bow, ripped the cover from the box, aware of the fact that it landed halfway across the room. All contents of the box, down to the very last crumb, disappeared within minutes. Miss Parker prided herself on being able to let go of her Ice Queen facade, albeit for only a few minutes, and to eat a mere box of chocolates at that. But she still relished herself on the fact that her father hadn't completely corrupted her. She still took pleasure in chocolate. Very good chocolate.

"One small step towards the trash can," Miss Parker smiled as she dumped the box in the reciprocal below the sink, "One giant leap away from the Centre."

The telephone rang. Parker let out an audible growl, knowing that a call at this time in the evening could only mean one thing. She debated on whether or not she should pick it up or not; she could pretend to be in the shower. After the second ring, she finally reached the conclusion that she was in enough trouble already, ignoring a phone call from the Centre would only make matter worse. Besides, the box of chocolates had given her enough energy for the hours she would probably spend there tonight.

"What?" she asked, snatching the phone off of its receiver.

"Miss Parker? This is Sydney. We need you back at the Centre as soon as possible."

"As soon as possible is looking like noon tomorrow," growled Miss Parker, glancing longingly at the door to her bathroom.

"Miss Parker, I'm afraid to inform you that this is rather urgent."

"Well, can you 'inform' me about what is so urgent that you have to drag me back to that place after dark?" she asked, reaching for her heels. 'Damn these shoes,' she thought, sliding them back on her feet while balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"It seems as if there has been another breach in Centre security. This is the second time someone has broken into the Centre mainframe in three days. Something's going on, and Lyle is trying to convince your father and Raines that you are at the heart of this problem."

"God damn it, how could I possibly have hacked into the mainframe from my house? The computer that I own is very outdated and couldn't elude the security programs that Broots designed even if I knew how. What's going on, Sydney? How could anyone actually believe my brother?" asked Miss Parker, grinding her heel into the floor of her kitchen.

"I don't know Miss Parker. Lyle is up to something, I'm sure of it."

"Lyle is always up to something. Do you think it could be Jarod? He's always playing around with the Centre's funds, he's intercepted more messages than is good for him," said Miss Parker, putting on her jacket and searching her coffee table for her keys.

"I highly doubt it. The traces that were left behind suggest that the person who broke into the mainframe was doing so from inside the Centre itself, a place that I doubt Jarod would be. Besides, when was the last time we knew he intercepted a message mere hours after he broke into the system? We always discover his activities through his phone calls, or through educated guesses we make after Raines or your father's plans are foiled," replied Sydney.

"I don't suppose it was little Brootsie either, he's got the confidence of a two year old. A man who is afraid of the monsters under the bed wouldn't dare take on Centre security unless I force him to, and even then he would go down kicking and screaming all the way."

"I had to remind Lyle of that myself to keep Broots out of the hot seat. Lyle must be blinded by some great goal in order to look past something so obvious as the fear of punishment that Broots possesses. That was when I knew something was definitely going on."

"I have a theory, I might be wrong, but I think I know what's going on. I'll meet you in your office, Sydney. And if I'm there until midnight, I will wring Lyle's neck myself, so help me God," snarled Parker, hanging up. She located her keys (and her nine millimeter, which she threw in her purse), and stormed out the door.

Miss Parker drove to the Centre breaking every speeding law ever written. Not like she cared, she was being dragged, nearly by her collar, back to work at 8:30 pm, far past normal working hours. Though, she wondered why she expected normal working hours at the Centre. Nothing about the Centre was normal, right down to the type of coffee they served. If it could even qualify as coffee. Liquid cardboard was probably a more accurate description.

She parked her car in the lot a few levels below ground, and rode the elevator up to Sydney's office. The loud click of her heels alerted him of her presence before she walked through the door, fuming like she hadn't been in days. She dropped her purse on his desk, and stared at him. He hadn't expected her to arrive so quickly, and he had been caught in the middle of something . . . it just so happened that the something she had seen him doing was taking notes on Jarod's angel drawings.

"What are you doing?" Miss Parker demanded.

"You asked me to find out what he meant by this, and I intend to do just that, Miss Parker," replied Sydney. "Now that you've arrived, I'll put these back in my desk drawer."

"And don't you dare let anyone besides me see them, because if my brother finds out about this, I will make you wish that you were never born," she snapped.

"I'll be sure of that."

"Good, now where the hell is that brother of mine?" asked Parker, turning around as she heard his voice.

"That brother of yours is right over here," Lyle said with his plastered, fake smile.

"Well, you know what they say. Speak of the devil," said Miss Parker, her voice like acid.

"I'm glad you came back so willingly, sis," said Lyle with a genuinely evil smile replacing the previous one.

"Listen Lyle, and listen good. You and I both know that there is no way in hell I hacked into the Centre mainframe. I have the technical skills of a Labrador, not to mention the fact that the only one with enough brains to do it from inside the Centre would never agree to such an undertaking. So, I ask you, how in God's name did you put my name on this one?" Miss Parker asked, hands on hips.

"Because the traces left by the hacker go straight back to your computer," said Lyle with a shrug. "For the past three days . . ."

"For the past three days, I've been away with Sydney and Broots searching for Jarod. Although I might have been in the office today, I wasn't two days ago, and Sydney informed me that it was certainly the same person who breached Centre security both times. I don't know how you can possibly link this to me if I wasn't even here," growled Miss Parker, Ice Queen facade just as powerful and intimidating as ever.

"Maybe it wasn't you, your physical person, but I know that you've had something to do with Jarod's mystical magical disappearances. There isn't a way in hell that all the times you've been in the same room with him, or on the same block, or even in the building he just pulled one of his Houdini stunts and poof he was gone! I don't buy it Parker, not one bit."

"Perhaps," said Miss Parker angrily, staring Lyle right in the eye, "you don't remember just how difficult it is to capture someone who has hundreds of people all over the country who owe him favors. Perhaps you forgot that everyone seems to like this guy, and no one wants to give us tips on him because of that. Or maybe you just don't want to remember."

"Incase you forgot sis, I've captured him. You haven't. I think that's proof enough that your emotional ties to this situation impede your ability to make the right decision and haul the lab rat's ass back to the Centre," growled Lyle.

"I'll give you that, Lyle. You did capture him. And then he escaped again. So it's like it never happened, isn't it?" asked Miss Parker, turning her back on her brother.

"At least I caught him, that's more than you can say about your attempts. Anyway, I've got Dad on my side, don't I? You'd better watch your back Parker, I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Lyle taunted.

"I don't think you're going to be the only one doing some digging around here," Miss Parker warned him, without turning back to face him. Lyle turned around as well, and reached the door when he said,

"And one last thing, Parker. I almost forgot; I took it upon myself to inform you that you're not Daddy's little Angel anymore. I'm afraid he doesn't think you're cut out for the job, after all that's gone on this past week and all."

"Get out!" she screamed, shooting Lyle a glare that told him he would have hell to pay if he didn't follow her command. With another evil grin, he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"What was that?" asked Broots, walking past Lyle and through the door.

"Something strange is going on here, boys, and I'm determined to get to the bottom of it. Broots . . ."

"I-I'm afraid I can't do anything for you as of the moment, M-Miss Parker. T-They won't let me at m-my computer."

"Can't imagine why," she snarled, gritting her teeth. "Someone is framing us, obviously, and I think I know who it is. Unfortunately, since neither of us three seem to have clearance _anywhere_ now that we're all under investigation, it seems as though we're not going to find out."

"At least they're letting us into our offices," sighed Sydney. "If they were to send a team of cleaners through here, I'd be almost afraid of what they'd find."

"Or what they'd plant in our offices to find at a later date," added Miss Parker, pulling up a chair. "All I know is that Lyle is behind this."

"Because your father authorized everything?" asked Broots.

"Of course. Not like I'd put it past him anymore, but the only way he'd turn against me when I haven't noticeably crossed him is if Lyle had something to do with it."

"And based on the way he was gloating when he walked in here a few minutes ago, he has to have at least something to do with it," stated Sydney, crossing his arms.

"Five bucks says this office is bugged," said Miss Parker, looking around the room.

"You're probably right, but I can't imagine them letting us go until we've spoken with your father," said Sydney.

"I'm here because I have to make a statement?" asked Miss Parker, hands clutching the armrests of the chair she was in tightly enough to rip off the padding.

"Yes, I was going to tell you as much before Lyle walked in."

"A statement? To my own father, he's having me make a statement? What is this?!?" cried Miss Parker, slamming her fist on the desk next to her.

The phone rang. Sydney was the first to intercept it, calmly picking it up and saying,

"This is Sydney. Yes . . . yes Mr. Parker, right away."

"I'll scratch his eyes out," whispered Miss Parker through her teeth.

Sydney hung up the phone, and Broots stopped his nervous pacing for a moment to look up at him. Miss Parker knew what Sydney had been told over the phone, but stopped her train of thought to listen anyway.

"Time to go, at least they don't have us waiting too late," Sydney said, and Miss Parker made sure that she was the first out the door.

Upon entering her father's office, she was told that they would each go in, one at a time, and answer a few questions that Mr. Parker had for them. They agreed, what other choice did they possibly have? And Miss Parker volunteered to go first. A safety precaution she knew it to be, when she saw that Broots was actually shaking. She sighed disgustedly, though she was worried for the techie. She walked confidently through the door, and took a seat in front of her father's desk.

"Angel," her father began. Miss Parker found herself annoyed at him for using the nickname. "I have a few questions for you, if you will."

"Of course, Daddy."

"Well, the first of many issues is Jarod. I have been informed by a reliable source that the reason for your failure so far has been an attachment to the pretender that would be unacceptable for an employee of the Centre. Is this true? And if not, then I demand and explanation for your performance thus far."

Miss Parker struggled to stay calm. Lyle! She would have loved to put a bullet between his eyes just then, but knew that it would be the cause of her termination should she do such a thing. Instead, she swallowed her emotions and forced a laugh.

"Attached to Jarod? Is that what you think of me, Daddy? I haven't seen or heard from Wonderboy in months. I just got back today from following a lead in New York. It's only through minor witnesses and anonymous sightings that we've managed to keep tabs on him thus far. It seems as though he is tiring of the game he has been playing with the Centre, and intends on disappearing. It's only because of Broots that we're able to keep him from doing so," Miss Parker lied.

"You mean, no contact from Jarod for months? No phone calls, or packages, or messages?" asked Mr. Parker, wondering at the sudden change in the pretender's behavior.

"Exactly. And I don't know what brought it on. Even if everything he ever said or sent was positively irritating and filled with hidden and double meanings, at least it helped us locate him at some point. Sydney is still trying to figure out what has caused this sudden change of method on Jarod's part. And as far as being civil to him goes, the nicest thing I've ever done for him is to not shoot him, and that is because we want him back alive," said Miss Parker, imitating Lyle's famous grin.

"Well that's settled, but I'm not through yet. I have a few questions on the recent breech in Centre security," said Mr. Parker, leaning back in his chair.

"Go on."

"I want to know exactly what you had to do with it. Don't deny your involvement, Angel. But if you confess now, I'm sure I can help you cover up your crimes and place the blame elsewhere," said Mr. Parker.

"I won't lie, Daddy," began Miss Parker.

"That's my girl," said Mr. Parker, but she cut him off.

"I won't lie, nor will I give a false confession. I was away for three days, and had no idea what was going on in the Centre until I got back. All I know is that security has been breeched twice, and it has been traced to the computer in my office. Sydney, Broots, and I are all under investigation, and not one of us even knows what files were accessed. I suspect that I was framed. By who? I'm not sure. But that is my side of the story, and I am sticking to it," replied Miss Parker.

"If you insist, Angel. But be warned - whoever this mysterious hacker is, he or she knows too much. When their identity is discovered and confirmed, I will not hesitate in ordering their termination," said Mr. Parker, looking at his daughter threateningly.

"I don't doubt it," said Miss Parker, standing up and exiting the room. Sydney and Broots looked up at her hopefully.

"Just tell him the truth . . . omitting anything about Jarod's recent contact with us. He doesn't believe me, I can tell. I'm afraid we have quite a problem on our hands, here," she said, gritting her teeth. "And I no longer doubt Lyle's involvement in the matter."

"Going home, Miss Parker?" asked Sydney.

"And taking a nice, long shower," replied Miss Parker. "See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Miss Parker," Broots called after her.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," whispered Miss Parker angrily. So much had been going on recently, she didn't know what to think anymore. "I'm going to find out who wants me dead so badly, and then I think I'll return the favor."


	4. Southbound

**Disclaimer:** I'm trying to buy them, but evidently they cost too much money. As of this exact point in time, all characters _still_ don't belong to me. Yet, I still insist on playing with them. Grass is always greener on the other side, right?

I apologize for the length (or lack thereof) of this chapter. Similar to chapter two, this diddy follows Jarod, and (quite frankly) he hasn't been doing so-very-much. After all, there's only so much noshing you can write about before you start to restate yourself. It'll get better soon. I promise.

* * *

Jarod yawned. The drive down the east coast was tiring, for one thing. He had spent most of the day on the road, and his entire lunch break (the half hour that it was) had passed by as he hacked into the Centre mainframe once again to check up on the newest developments. The fact that Miss Parker, Sydney, and Broots were being framed came as no surprise to him. After all, if they wanted to get rid of Miss Parker, why not take her two team members down with her? This made things more difficult, though. He couldn't be in three places at once, and it would make an escape from the Centre many times more complicated.

Which meant that he had to contact Sydney and Broots ahead of time. This was a risk he didn't enjoy taking, but when lives were at stake, what choice did he have? Especially when they were the lives of friends. Of course, Jarod knew who had framed them, and how. He could have simmed it even if he didn't recognize the digital traces of the hacker. Lyle had done it near perfectly, from Parker's own computer. The only problem was that it was too obvious, and Lyle didn't know his sister well enough to make it look good. Jarod knew that Miss Parker wouldn't have hacked into the mainframe from her own personal computer, not to mention the fact that she was partial to crawling around in the Centre's sublevels. Miss Parker couldn't have hacked into the mainframe. Even Broots would have had a hard time with it, and Broots had designed the system. Which was, of course, another flaw in Lyle's plan. Miss Parker would have had to hold a gun to Broots' head to get him to try and recover information so heavily guarded. But it seemed that the Centre's big shots were so eager to get rid of Parker that they looked past all of the evidence to the contrary.

Jarod had to admit, Lyle must have been planning this for months, lying in wait for an opportunity to spring his plan. If he hadn't known Lyle's intentions as well as he did, he would have said that Lyle's plot had been conjured up one morning in the shower, and the Centre's security breeched on Lyle's lunchbreak. But Jarod knew that he wanted Parker out of the picture so that his father would put him in charge of the hunt. And Lyle had known that even if Mr. Parker was too soft to sign his daughter's termination orders, he would have taken her off the hunt. Why else would Lyle have accessed all of Jarod's files while framing Parker? It was to get his father to think she had a soft spot for the Centre's most famous pretender. And apparently, as judged from a few intercepted e-mails, it had worked.

Today, Lyle had accessed a few million of the Centre's funds, and transferred them into Parker's bank account. From there, he had herded the money through at least ten false accounts, until finally he dumped it all (in increments so small they were untraceable) into his own account. Unfortunately for Miss Parker, all the Centre needed to see was the various transfers between numerous false accounts to assume that she had been sending money to Jarod, thus incriminating her further.

Jarod had resisted the urge to alert Miss Parker of what was really going on inside the Centre and her brother's mind, because he knew that every line he knew the number of was probably bugged. He was taking a great risk going near Blue Cove, based on the fact that the entire Centre thought he had relations with Miss Parker. But it was something that needed to be done. He had managed to keep the surveillance equipment in her home from working properly. Even though they could hear what she was saying, they couldn't see anything that was going on, which could definitely be used to his advantage when he arrived there the next day. He could disable all of the bugs while she was away at work, which would allow him to explain the whole situation before she shot him. Hopefully. At least she was the type to ask questions before shooting; Jarod couldn't say the same about most of the Centre's employees.

Jarod pulled into the parking lot of a highway motel, quickly looking around him before stepping out of the car and walking into the lobby. After giving the desk clerk the name under which his reservations were (yes, he had called ahead, this was one of the cleaner motels that could be found on the highway) he was handed a key. Jarod returned to his car to retrieve his black overnight bag and DSA case, then found his room.

Once inside, he dropped the DSA case on the bed as he sifted through his overnight bag for anything edible. It was late, and Jarod somehow doubted that he would have an easy time finding something to eat. His efforts were rewarded though, when he came up with an assortment of junk food: twinkies, two cans of soda, Hostess cupcakes (the cream filled kind), a bag of assorted candy bars, and of course, PEZ. Jarod spread his findings out on the bed and pulled out his laptop. What he discovered didn't please him.

For one thing, Parker, Sydney, and Broots were all still in the office. Not to mention the fact that their offices were the only places in the entire Centre that they had access to. Their offices were bugged too, no big surprise there. Jarod watched Miss Parker's brief exchange with Lyle, and wondered if she had any idea what her brother was involved in. For some reason, he felt that she had a hunch. Jarod gathered that it was too late for Miss Parker to convince her father that she was innocent as he saw them called into Mr. Parker's office. There wasn't a way in the world Daddy would have questioned his Angel if he wasn't convinced of her guilt, and based on the conversation they had once Parker was in there, he certainly was.

Jarod knew that Miss Parker had been doing some research on her father as of late, her sources had been the files locked away in the bowels of the Centre. He wished with all his might that he could know whether or not Parker still had the same unfailing trust in her father, still thought that if she brought the Centre's famed pretender in then she would have her freedom. He wondered if she still spent her days working towards one goal: to be Daddy's Angel, to prove that her past, that her life, wasn't founded on an intricately spun web of lies. Because if she still had these goals, the ones she had when she first began working for her father, then there wasn't a way in the world Jarod's plan would work, and he was putting himself in grave danger by trying to help her out.

But he was no hypocrite -- he was going to take his own advice. When he had first escaped from the Centre, and had learned that Miss Parker had been assigned to bring him back, he had wanted to hate her more than anything. But he had realized in quite a short amount of time that it would be impossible. He still cared about her, he still saw her as the little Miss Parker he had been friends with so long ago when they were both children in the Centre. He knew that the little girl he had known and loved was inside that icy exterior, somewhere. He had put that note in the folder he had left in his desk drawer because it was something that took him a while to accept as well. It had been hard for him to accept the fact that he actually cared about, no, had feelings for the person who was hunting him down like an animal. Which was why he was so bent on helping her. He had learned that there isn't anything wrong with caring about someone, even if they have wronged you in the past (or present, for that matter). He knew that it was a lesson that Miss Parker had to learn. That was why he had put the note in there, and he hoped with every ounce of his being that she would listen to him just this once.

Jarod had been deep in thought when he was startled by a blast of music coming from the next room over. It was nearly midnight, he assumed that whoever was playing their radio was quite drunk. He smiled and shook his head. He'd never understand people. At least the song was nice though; he leaned back and listened. The chorus was great, and the words held a lot of meaning for him. Based on one of the lines in the chorus, he was able to find the song title and artist online. He easily downloaded it and burned a CD with the song on it, quickly packaging and addressing it to Miss Parker. Jarod marked it as a 24 hour rush delivery, knowing that it would be there in time for her to get it the next day. He would drop it at the post office when he got into Blue Cove.

Jarod turned his attention back to his twinkies and laptop, hoping to elude sleep just long enough to prevent dreams . . . or nightmares.


	5. New Arrivals

**Disclaimer:** The characters are not mine, but the plotbunny is! So there! Something that _I_ can lay claim to! Muhahahahaha!

Another short chapter. So sue me! (Actually, please don't. I'm broke.) However, this was how I wrote it, therefore this is how it will be uploaded. Fight me about it. I _dare_ you.

* * *

"M-m-miss Parker," said Broots, sticking his head in the doorway.

"What?" she asked angrily, dead tired and quite irritated at the behavior of Lyle and her father.

"There's a package, it's from Jarod."

"Give it," she growled, and Broots set it down on her desk.

She had been in the Centre until at least midnight last night, and had been up early as always for work this Friday morning. Lyle would be working all throughout the weekend, no doubt, but Miss Parker vowed to take some time off and regroup. She desperately needed a vacation from this hell. She swore silently as she gave herself a paper cut trying to rip open the packaging.

"A CD," said Sydney, walking into the room and looking at the object Miss Parker was turning over in her hands.

Miss Parker gave it to Broots, who slid it into the disk drive of her computer. All three were surprised when music started playing softly from the speakers. But then, everything that Jarod ever did was surprising, even if it did have meaning to it.

"Music," she snarled, angry with Rat Boy for playing more of his stupid games.

"Shhhhhh Miss Parker, listen," whispered Sydney. The chorus began, and Miss Parker felt tears come to her eyes as she listened to it and realized the meaning behind it.

"_If you want to  
__I can save you  
__I can take you  
__away from here  
__So lonely inside  
__so busy out there  
__and all you wanted  
__was somebody who cared"_

"M-m-miss Parker, are you a-a-alright?" asked Broots, seeing a tear slide down her cheek. He'd never seen her cry before, and it was quite unnerving.

"I'm fine," she responded sharply, wiping another tear away and regaining her composure. She wanted to find out who sang that song.

"Miss Parker, is something . . ." suddenly, Sydney's cell phone rang. "This is Sydney."

"Sydney, don't tell anyone it's me," Jarod's voice said on the other line.

"Alright . . . what is it?"

"I need to see you and Broots somewhere safe," replied the pretender, lounged comfortably on Miss Parker's couch.

"Why?" questioned the psychiatrist.

"Reasons I can't explain over the phone. Meet me in The Golden Dolphin diner just outside of Blue Cove. It's a truck stop, it's safe to say that you can't miss it." Jarod removed a CD from his coat pocket and left it on Miss Parker's coffee table as he got up and walked back through her house.

"But . . ."

"And don't bring any sweepers," Jarod added, hanging up.

"Who was that, Sydney?" asked Miss Parker, motioning for Broots to play the song again so that she could write down the words.

"That was Michelle," Sydney lied. "I'll be back soon. Come Broots, I need you to do something for me."

"I don't have all day, I want you both back here for the hunt ASAP, am I clear?"

"Quite," responded Sydney, exiting with Broots.

"What did you want me to do?" asked Broots once they were down the hall.

"I want you to come with me. I'll tell you the details when we're in the car," said Sydney.

Broots was confused, his thoughts muddled as they rode the elevator down to the Centre's sublevels. They entered the parking lot and quickly located Sydney's car. Once they were on the road, Sydney began speaking rapidly.

"That wasn't Michelle I spoke with, it was Jarod. Whatever he wants to talk about, it's incredibly important, so much so that he is in Blue Cove. He told me specifically only to bring you, and I wasn't about to betray his wishes. He is putting his life in danger by coming here, and I think that he is trying to save ours."

"But Miss Parker . . ."

"Miss Parker won't find out about this, will she?" asked Sydney with a smile.

"No Syd," responded Broots, and the rest of the ride was spent in silence.

When the car stopped, Broots realized that they were at a diner that was fairly well known in Blue Cove, the Golden Dolphin. He and Sydney got out of the car, and walked through the entrance quickly. Both were quite anxious to see what Jarod was up to, but neither were surprised that he wasn't anywhere to be seen. They seated themselves, waiting impatiently for the pretender to show himself. He was probably checking for Miss Parker, or for sweepers.

"Nice to see you again Sydney, Mr. Broots," said a deep voice next to them, and the two turned to see Jarod standing next to their table. He seated himself without further ado.

"What's this all about Jarod? You're in grave danger here, so close to the Centre," said Sydney in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper.

"I'd say that I am in far better shape than you two," replied the pretender.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to explain yourself, Jarod."

"I've been browsing the Centre mainframe lately, and have stumbled upon a few highly guarded messages issued from Mr. Parker," said Jarod, and knew that he had Sydney and Broots' full attention.

"But it wasn't you . . ."

"No, you're right Mr. Broots, I'm not the one who framed Miss Parker. That was Lyle, and the information he accessed was what incriminated Miss Parker, not the act of hacking itself. He accessed my files, all of them, and lifted some of the Centre's funds, making it look like Miss Parker and I had some sort of an understanding."

"We're going to have to tell Miss Parker about this," said Sydney, wide eyed.

"I'll do that job. What you're here for is just as important," said Jarod grimly. "Those messages I intercepted were termination orders. Sydney, Broots . . . if you don't leave Blue Cove, you will not be alive by 9 o'clock this evening."

"And Miss Parker?" asked Broots.

"I will get Miss Parker out of the Centre if it is the last thing I do," he swore, and Sydney finally understood the meaning of the song Jarod had sent Miss Parker.

"The song, that's what it meant, wasn't it?" he asked, and Jarod nodded.

"She's going to need saving this time, no matter what she thinks. She's a strong woman Syd, but if she's caught unaware and at gunpoint, the assassin won't have a hard time," replied the pretender.

"Where do you want us to go?" asked Broots. "Debbie and I won't have anywhere to hide, and they'll be looking for us."

"Europe," said Jarod. "Mr. Broots, you and Debbie will be leaving later tonight. Sydney, Nicholas and Michelle will meet you in New York, and you will take a flight from there. I have your tickets." Jarod pulled five plane tickets out of his leather jacket pocket, dropping them on the table in front of him.

"So this is it?" asked Broots, staring at the plane tickets. "This is the end?"

"Of your life at the Centre, or of your life. Your choice," replied Jarod.

"We'll just disappear, once and for all. Miss Parker too, I suppose. But what about you, Jarod, will you finally vanish, or will you still let the Centre trail you?" asked Broots.

"I never let the Centre trail me, Mr. Broots. I let Miss Parker trail me. Once she is out of the Centre, they will never be able to find me," said Jarod quietly.

"Oh," breathed Broots, finally understanding the extent of Jarod and Miss Parker's relationship.

"Before you leave, I want Sydney to call Miss Parker and ask her to meet you two at her house to discuss something important. I'll be waiting for her there. Bon voyage," he said. The two Centre employees looked at the plane tickets on the table, and when they looked back at the spot where Jarod had been sitting, he was no longer there.

"Well," said Broots, picking up two of the five tickets, "here goes nothing."


	6. Hello, Goodbye

**Disclaimer:** Guess what I don't own! That's right, _everything_. So if you want to sue me, sorry. I fully admit to my state of non-ownership. Besides, I'm seventeen and poor. Suing me would be about as productive as trying to squeeze water out of a rock.

Okay, still more short chapters. I think I lied before – they don't get much longer from here on out. Sorry 'bout that one. I swear, I didn't mean it!

* * *

Miss Parker looked around her living room. Something was out of place. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something that just wasn't right. She spun in a circle, removing her nine millimeter from her purse. Something on her coffee table caught her eye. It was a CD case. Miss Parker walked over to the coffee table and glanced at the artist on the cover. Michelle Branch. The one who sang the song that Jarod had sent her that morning. Something was definitely not right.

"I know you're here somewhere, Jarod," she said turning her attention back to the doorway in front of her. "Come on out Rat Boy, game's over."

"Not until you put the gun down," came a voice from the kitchen.

"What do you want, lab rat," she hissed as she moved into the next room.

"I want to talk to you."

"We can do all the talking you want, once you're on your way back to the Centre. You see Jarod, before I was motivated solely by the prize; my freedom for yours. But now, it looks like towing you back could save my ass," replied Miss Parker, reaching for the phone.

"That, Parker, would not be your best idea," replied the Pretender, appearing behind her and pulling the cord out of the wall. Miss Parker spun around and aimed for the middle of his chest.

"You're right, I just thought up a better one," she replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Parker, listen to me," he begged. "It was Lyle. All of it . . ."

"For a genius, you delight in stating the obvious."

"I'm not finished yet," he snapped angrily, knowing that this would be harder than he had imagined. "Lyle used your computer to access my files, and to borrow a couple million in the Centre's funds. This evidence led them to believe that you aren't really chasing me, but helping me escape."

"Thanks Wonderboy, I'll be heading back with you now so we can straighten this all out," she replied acidly, drawing her handcuffs out of her purse.

"Miss Parker, Lyle framed you because he wants you out of the way," said Jarod, trying as hard as he could to keep his calm with his stubborn childhood friend.

"In Centre terms, exterminated. Continue -- this tale fascinates me."

"He told this to your father and Raines, who ordered not only your termination orders, but ordered the termination of Sydney and Broots as well, under the assumption that they were also part of this conspiracy. They won't care if you bring me back. Lyle will kill you and assume responsibility for my capture. Don't you get it Parker? To them you're not a sister, or a daughter. You're expendable, and lately you've been walking around with a big target sign on your back," said Jarod, his eyes drifting back to the gun she was pointing at him.

"Jarod using metaphors? I'll have to give my buddy Satan a ring and see if cows are ice skating in hell," said Miss Parker, pressing the barrel of the nine millimeter up against his chest.

"Parker," Jarod hissed. "Your life is in danger."

"Not while I've got you at gunpoint, Lab Rat," she replied, even though she knew that she would never be able to bring him back to the Centre.

Jarod's words began to sink in. Termination orders. Not only her, but for Sydney and Broots as well. Debbie and Nicholas would be left without parents. Debbie would be an orphan, with nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Tears welled in Miss Parker's eyes as she thought about what it must be like losing not one, but two parents.

"Parker, please," Jarod begged, though he did not expect what happened next. The hand she was holding her gun in dropped to her side. She turned her back on him, and walked back into the living room.

"What about Sydney and Broots?" she asked suddenly, her back still to him.

"They're safe. I don't think I missed any bugs when I was in here earlier, but in case I did I'm not going to say where I sent them," Jarod replied, following her into the living room. He saw her staring down at the coffee table, at the CD he had left there. It seemed as though she was weighing her options out in her head.

Jarod looked up suddenly, partly on instinct and partly because he saw a movement outside the window. Either way, he was lucky that he had looked when he did.

"Parker, down!" he yelled, pulling her onto the floor next to him as a bullet shattered her window and embedded itself in the wall behind them.

"I'm going to alter my previous statement," she said, holding up her nine millimeter and crawling towards the window. "Cows ice skating in hell . . . with santa hats."

"Parker, come on, I've got a car waiting on the other side of the woods," he said, grabbing her forearm.

"I don't think so. I'm going to kill the bastard who just shot at me," she snarled.

"How do you know there's only one of him?" asked Jarod, crawling after her. She laughed.

"See, that's the thing Jarod, I don't!"

Miss Parker glanced across the room at a mirror on the opposite wall. With a snarl she leapt up and fired a succession of shots, one after another, into the sweeper's head. Jarod was on his feet and looked out the window quickly, realizing with a sigh of relief that they had only sent one man, a lower ranking sweeper, so that there was only one witness, one who they could dispose of after the act was committed.

"Now," she said, turning to face the pretender, "we can go."

"Alright," he said, knowing that she hadn't changed her mind.

"So . . . where to?" she asked after a few seconds, noticing that Jarod hadn't moved.

"Where to?" he repeated, looking at her curiously.

"You know, where are we going? East coast? West coast? Canada? Europe?" she asked, realizing that he thought . . .

"I thought you'd take me back to the Centre," he said, suddenly springing into a flurry of motion, whisking the CD off the coffee table as he headed towards the back of the house.

"Jarod, even I am not blind to the fact that they would shoot me as soon as I set foot in there. I may be a good shot, but even I am not good enough to take on all the sweepers in the Centre," replied Miss Parker, sliding her gun back into its holster.

"So . . . you're coming with me?" he asked, and Miss Parker found his smile infectious.

"Don't be so flattered by it," she said, trying to resist his good mood. "You and your white horse just happened to stop by at a convenient time."

"White horse?" Jarod asked, puzzled, as Miss Parker opened the back door and stepped out.

"Never mind. Come on Wonderboy, we've got places to go."


	7. Fairy Tale Ending?

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them, never have, never will. Please don't sue me! I need all the money I can get my little hands on to help me pay for college.

This is the final installment. As for what happens afterwards, well, I'll leave that to your imaginations.

* * *

The drive had been silent for nearly the first half hour. Finally, finding the silence unnerving (and afraid of her thoughts), Miss Parker reached for the radio. She turned the dial until she found a signal which came in clearly. The song which she found was painfully familiar.

"_If you want to  
__I can save you  
__I can take you  
__away from here  
__So lonely inside  
__so busy out there  
__and all you wanted  
__was somebody who cared"_

"Well, I get it now," she said sadly, looking out the window.

"Was I right?"

"What do you mean?" asked Miss Parker, looking back at Jarod.

"Do you think it relates to you?"

"Well you saved me, didn't you? You're taking me away from there. You used to call me every night telling me how lonely I was, how I buried myself in work and alcohol to forget about it, how all I wanted and all I needed was someone who cared," said Miss Parker. She didn't need to be the Ice Queen anymore.

"Did you want to?" he asked, looking over at her.

"Keep your eyes on the road," she snapped.

"I'm sorry I didn't call, or write, or send you anything these past few months," said Jarod after a few minutes.

"Sorry? It kept us off of your tail, why should you out of all people be sorry?"

"Because I know it meant something to you," he responded, and Miss Parker almost hated him for how right he was. "I knew that I wouldn't have gotten the chance to get anywhere near Blue Cove if I had left you more clues. The drawings were all I could risk."

"It's not a sin to care," said Miss Parker softly.

"A lesson I learned a long time ago."

"Why do you?" she asked.

"Why do I what?"

"Why do you care? You wouldn't have come back to Blue Cove if you didn't. All I've ever done is hunt you down, why should you care what happened to me?" she asked.

"You were also my first friend. My first kiss. My first love. I hated you for a long time after I escaped the Centre. I couldn't understand why you would accept such an assignment. But then I realized that I did care about you, that I still loved the little girl inside of you. The one that you had to hide. I started leaving clues for you, because I knew what would have happened to you if you failed. You father . . . he doesn't accept failure, that much I knew. I still don't know why I care, all I know is that I do, and I've come to terms with it," he said softly.

"All my life I've been taught that it was a sin to care. I've been taught to become wood, that way no one can hurt me. Not to care, because caring gets people killed. That my father was the only person I could trust. But it was you, you and those stupid little notes of yours that got me thinking. That awoke that part of me that still questioned the world around me, the world that I had so readily accepted as normal and right. I couldn't help myself. I had to find out about my father. And when I realized that everything he had ever done and said had been a lie, it felt as if my whole existence was turned upside down. I was okay though, the truth didn't kill me this time. I still had that one person who was my rock in life, my anchor in troubled waters. And then you stopped calling," she said, teary-eyed.

"Why . . ." began Jarod.

"Because I'm not the Centre's Ice Queen anymore. I'm not their poster-bitch. I don't want to be Daddy's little angel anymore. It's time to air out the laundry, Jarod. It's time for a clean slate, a new beginning."

"Oh," he said, falling silent. After a minute, Miss Parker spoke again.

"You know Jarod, I used to have these dreams of you riding up to a big black castle on this huge white horse. The whole knight in shining armor thing and then some. You used to get off the horse, charge up this long winding staircase, run down a corridor, and free a princess from her room. I used to wake up so happy after having those dreams, and I never knew why until I heard that song. It should have been obvious, because you always used to offer to get me out of the Centre, and I used to tease you about being the white knight, riding up to save me. I suppose I never realized that I wanted you to."

Miss Parker looked over to see Jarod smiling, his eyes brimming with tears. She didn't have to ask to know that they were tears of happiness. She couldn't get over it; he was happy for her, that she had finally escaped from the Centre and searched her soul to find out who she really was. He was the most selfless person she had ever met.

"How did your dreams end, Miss Parker," he asked suddenly.

"Well, you know, the usual."

"The usual?"

"Happily ever after," she said, and couldn't stop herself from smiling when she said the fairy tale phrase.

"I hope we live that way too," he replied.

"So do I, Jarod. So do I."


End file.
